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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28208688">Rose Water</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/jupiter_andmars/pseuds/jupiter_andmars'>jupiter_andmars</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anxiety, Arson, Brodin's a psychopath, Comfy cartel, Gay Panic, Gun Violence, Italian Mafia, LGBTQ Character, Mafia AU, Murder, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, sykkuno likes flowers more than people</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:29:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,398</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28208688</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/jupiter_andmars/pseuds/jupiter_andmars</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Corpse is struggling. After passing the fuck out in his lonely apartment, the local Comfy Cartel extends a generous invitation for him to move in. </p><p>For safety reasons, of course.</p><p>_<br/>mafia au</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Corpse Husband &amp; Sykkuno (Video Blogging RPF), Corpse Husband/Sykkuno (Video Blogging RPF), Imane Anys/Rachel "Rae" Hofstetter, Lily Ki/Micheal Reeves</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>308</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Drop</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a work of fiction. I am in no way trying to insinuate that the real people written about here are in romantic relationships, or have experienced events mentioned.</p><p>Please don't shove fanfiction down the throats of real people.</p><p>Tags will be updated/added as more chapters arrive and I figure out what I'm doing.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>tw//anxiety, panic attack, passing tf out</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Corpse feels like absolute shit. Truly terrible. His head aches insistently, his entire body is sore, and his eye stings under the dark eyepatch. The lack of sleep really isn't helping his case, but he can't help it. He wishes in vain for a better sleep schedule.</p>
<p>Quite a bit earlier in the morning, he had finally flopped into bed and started staring at the ceiling- waiting for sleep to take him under. He truly was exhausted from the recent influx of fame. Streaming was basically his job now and he did it pretty often, yet the waves of anxiety still tightened his chest every time. Corpse was still figuring out exactly how to interact with his viewers and new friends, but fortunately they were very understanding. So understanding in fact, that all, if not most, of his new friends had reached out to talk to him off stream.</p>
<p>A particular cheerful face warmed by a striped green scarf comes to mind.</p>
<p>A comforting feeling of warmth spreads in his chest, dulling a bit of the pain. He finally finds enough energy to sit up, continuing to stare into space. His head starts spinning again in response. The self doubt starts dribbling in next as he slowly pads his way out of his dark bedroom.</p>
<p>He hesitantly brings up one of his hands to the light switch, gently rubbing his eyes with his other hand. He rests his fingertips to the cold white plastic, ultimately deciding that today- much like any other day- is not a lights-on kinda dealio. Corpse glances into the mirror and runs his hand through the dark curls reflected there. Fuck. He's tired, and feels like shit, but he knows he should shower. He slips out of his sweatpants, removes the eyepatch and forces himself to step into the shower.</p>
<p>At first the hot water soothes the anxiety pooling in the corners of his mind, waiting to boil over.</p>
<p>And then something snaps.</p>
<p>
  <em>They're using you.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Riding on your fame.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>They'll all leave you behind when this blows over.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>You don't have friends.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>They're too nice for you. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>You don't deserve them.</em>
</p>
<p>Shakily he shuts off the water and treks wet footsteps back into his room. After quickly diving into comfortable clothes he sits down on his unmade bed- falling into the soft mattress. His trembling hands come up to cover his face and he sighs heavily into them, trying in vain to hold back the sudden scalding tears. The salty liquid burns icy paths down his face.</p>
<p>Breaths suddenly don't deliver enough oxygen. He's gasping for air, like a hooked fish. His heartbeat is pounding loudly in his ears as he hyperventilates.</p>
<p><em>Breathe</em>.</p>
<p>The first breath comes out broken and wobbly. Dammit. Yet he tries his best to continue the well-practiced routine to calm down. Time seems to slow for a moment, waiting for him to regain control.</p>
<p>
  <em>In.</em>
</p>
<p>The silence stretches around the slowing of his anxious, racing heartbeat.</p>
<p>
  <em>Out.</em>
</p>
<p>Corpse resurfaces and stands up, wobbly on his feet. He should have breakfast or something to regain the small amount of energy that had just been drained out of him.</p>
<p>Coffee.</p>
<p>He needs some strong, hot coffee to alleviate the feeling of un-human-ness. Coffee's good for that.</p>
<p>His feet unconsciously carry him to the small kitchen snuggled in the corner of his apartment. The dark-haired man opens the fridge just for the motion of pulling the door open, knowing without looking that there's no food waiting for him. A disappointed sigh drops out of his lips.</p>
<p>Corpse then turns to the coffee machine, noting the dwindling supply of coffee sitting beside it. As he waits for the bitter liquid to finish pouring into his mug, he mentally checks his schedule. He promised a stream later today.</p>
<p>The coffee's done.</p>
<p>Corpse eagerly picks up the warmed mug and immediately starts drinking the boiling liquid. It hurts but he can't help himself starving for the promised energy. Scalding steam rises into his face, momentarily clouding his vision. He's already close to finishing the coffee as he makes his way back to his bedroom to set up.</p>
<p>Suddenly his bed and his black-out curtain-covered windows tilt dangerously. Corpse seizes the doorway with his free hand, knuckles going white from the tension. <em>Damn.</em> The lack of sleep was finally getting to him.</p>
<p>As the room rights itself, Corpse lets go of the moulding around the door and shuffles gingerly to his desk.</p>
<p>He barely manages to place the empty mug onto an empty corner of the dark stained desk before it swoops. The man grabs anxiously onto the edge of it for dear life. As soon as the desk is in its correct position once more, he takes a tentative step away from it.</p>
<p>Eyes drift closed as he takes a deep, careful breath. A sudden lurch has him stumbling, eyes widening in surprise- only to slip closed once again.</p>
<p>The carpeted floor underneath his feet jolts in shock and rushes up to catch him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The tide pulls away.</p>
<p>─── ･ : ｡*☽ .* :ﾟ. ───</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hello! This is my first fanfiction, so I'd appreciate feedback. Please feel free to leave comments- I'd love to see what you think! Any ideas for story progression are also welcome if you so desire (no promises though haha). I have a somewhat vague idea of things I'd like to tie in here. Thank you for reading.</p>
<p>The mental issues mentioned are mostly based off personal experience, along with the thirsting/simping for attractive people. More characters will appear in later chapters!</p>
<p>(should I twist this into a mafia au?)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Proposition</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hello and welcome to another episode of: i don't know what I'm doing and i didn't plan this enough.</p><p>i have no idea what my posting schedule is going to be, but ill try and make it more often than this haha.</p><p>i appreciate y'alls comments and kudos on the first chapter SO MUCH. thank you so much for reading !! im obsessed with the idea of spanish speaking corpse &amp; mykie so here we are. im currently learning spanish and im scared of writing anything past basic dialogue. if there's any major errors with it please let me know.</p><p>~im also giving several characters tattoos and piercings~</p><p>hope you enjoy this chonkier chapter !</p><p> </p><p>tw// implied abusive family dynamic</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The stream that day is tense. After an obnoxiously long wait, everyone resigns to editing their titles. The lobby scrambles for a fill to cover a particular missing person. Even Toast- <em>the Disguised Toast</em>- is worried. He's never worried.</p><p>Corpse never showed.</p><p>They all knew to expect occasional ghosting and to not take it personally. But the mysterious man hadn't answered any messages or calls since the prior evening, and there was business to attend to.</p><p>Even chat seems to pick on Sykkuno's extra fiddly-ness in regards to the missing person. </p><p>
  <em>Is Corpse playing?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>rip corpse</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Where's Corpse?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>lmaooo someone said rip corpse</em>
</p><p>
  <em>corpseee</em>
</p><p>Or maybe they just picked up on the Corpse-shaped gap in the lobby.</p><p>It shouldn't bother Sykkuno. Corpse has his reasons, and everyone respects them. But he can't help but feel neglected, forgotten. He's sure the others don't hold it against Corpse, and Sykkuno feels guilty for missing him.</p><p> </p><p>─── ･ : ｡*☽ .* :ﾟ. ───</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Arguing.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>All the screaming, yelling, and constant arguing providing a contrast to the comforting repetition of raindrops.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Corpse shuffles deeper into his worn covers, the thin fabric trying it's best to muffle the angry Spanish. His hand quivers around the wood handle of his switchblade as he savors his last moment of warmth.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>A tinkering reaches his ears as something, presumably a glass bottle, shatters down the hall. His breathing is heavier than it should be as he carefully sits up; shifting the blankets to the side. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>It sounds like another fight is festering with renewed energy. Corpse swings his legs over the side of the shabby bed. His breathing is echoing in his head, the oxygen raking fire down his throat only to be swallowed down. He can't take this anymore. The bright cover of his beginner's chemistry textbook seems to glow with the light of the moon filtering in through the glass covering his escape. The heavy book innocently mocks his decision. Rainwater pools on the floor under his window.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The front door slams.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>There's a scream.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And then there's silence.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The uncharacteristic quiet wretches stifled tears out of his tired eyes.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He doesn't need much and not much will fit in his backpack. He easily cuts through the mesh panel with his blade and turns sadly in a circle- taking in his room for the last time. His safe hide-out. Soon there's no choice but to climb out of the window and into the rain, his door handle rattling dangerously behind him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He did it.</em>
</p><p><em>He's finally free</em>.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>─── ･ : ｡*☽ .* :ﾟ. ───</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Corpse stirs to the rhythm of rain beating against his windows. He lays there for a second, in that strange little place tucked between consciousness and unconsciousness.</p><p>Finally he gathers enough willpower to open his eyes, fingering the seams of his unmade sheets below him. A clatter in the kitchen just outside his dark bedroom rouses him fully. He rolls off of his bed- <em>his bed?</em>- and makes his way silently to his kitchen. </p><p>"Ah, you're awake!" Greets him, quickly followed by a cheery "Hey Corpse!"</p><p>Corpse blinks at the domestic sight, trying to figure out how these people got into his apartment.</p><p>The Irishman walks over to him from his spot at the stove and cradles Corpse's cheeks with his palms. </p><p>"What the fuck, Jack," Corpse mumbles, jerking his head away- much to the pleasure of his headache.</p><p>Jack laughs and directs Corpse to his small table, plopping a plate of cinnamon raisin pancakes in front of him.</p><p>"We were worried about you, so we came and made you food! When was the last time you ate actual food, jesus christ." Jack moves back to the stove and starts fussing over a bowl of something. </p><p>"We thought you became an actual corpse overnight, just so happens you passed the fuck out-"</p><p>"I'm fine, I swear." Corpse takes an awkward bite of the pancakes, realizing how hungry he actually is. Jack continues grumbling under his breath, not wanting to pressure Corpse but needing to express his worry. After scarfing down everything on his plate, he looks up to see a woman staring at him.</p><p>Her long, ombre hair is pinned into a massive bun, and Corpse can't help but notice she stole one of his hoodies<em> (that's where it went)</em>. She's sitting on his quaint kitchen counter, staring at him, and swinging her legs back and forth like a small child.</p><p>"How alive are you on a scale of one to ten right now Corpse?" She asks him, mouth tugging upwards at the corners. </p><p>"Not very out of ten, Rae," he grumbles in response. "Why're you on my counter?"</p><p>"Aww, don't worry about your sad little counter-"</p><p>"-my counter is <em>not</em> sad and little-"</p><p>"It is! Just like you!" Rae hops off the counter and sticks her tongue out at Corpse's glare. </p><p>"Calm down, kids. I knew I shouldnt've brought you," Jack steps in, whispering the last part to Corpse a little too loudly- if Rae's overexaggerated pout is anything to go by.</p><p>"But Jack!" </p><p>Jack rolls his eyes and dumps the pan he was using into the sink. "Have you taken your meds yet, Corpse?"</p><p>The answering "Oh fuck" says enough. He forgot his fucking medication for the first time in years. Passing out really took up the majority of his awake time today, god dammit.</p><p>Rae throws several clear, orange bottles at him in quick succession, cheering and calling out various point numbers when he catches them.</p><p>Jack and Rae follow him as he stalks to his room in search of a cup of water.</p><p>"Y'know I could've just poured you some in the kitchen?" </p><p>"Shut up, Rae."</p><p>Jack and Rae flop down on the floor, throwing Corpse concerned glances when they look up from their phones every couple moments.</p><p>He's throwing back his last pill when Jack gasps comically.</p><p>Corpse's raised eyebrow gets no reply, traveling even higher when Jack picks up his mug. He lifts it to his face, and turns to Corpse with a strange look after smelling it.</p><p>"Corpse…"</p><p>"What? You guys broke into my fucking apartment!"</p><p>"Corpse, I appreciate it from the bottom of my heart, but you can't have coffee," Jack smoothly redirects.</p><p>"Lookit Corpse supporting Top of the Mornin'!" Rae coos.</p><p>Corpse musters the best glare he can and points it at Rae, dutifully ignoring the embarrassed blush rising up his neck.</p><p>"It's good though, don't come for me."</p><p>"Aw I know Corpsie~"</p><p>Jack swiftly ducks out of the way when Corpse swats at him. "Don't ever call me that ever again."</p><p>"Corpsie? Oh my God that's hilarious!" Rae yells.</p><p>Corpse's phone ringing angrily on his bed saves Rae's life. One last exasperated glare is shot at Rae, who slips out of the bedroom to safety.</p><p>Rapid-fire concerned Spanish filters through his little phone speakers the second he accepts the call.</p><p>"Mykie! ¡Estoy bien!" Corpse cuts in.</p><p>Mykie stops, seemingly to take a few deep breaths. "¿Dónde estás y cómo estás?"</p><p>"Estoy en mi apartamento. Rae y Jack están aquí. I'm fine, I swear. I might've passed out though."</p><p>A new wave of concerned screaming ensues. Corpse zones out, an apology for making his closest friend worry silently waiting on his lips. His tongue darts out in his well-established habit to fiddle with his lip ring. Rae and Jack are leaning around his cracked door, grimacing in solidarity.</p><p>"Mykie, I'm sorry I didn't call you, I wasn't the most alive a few hours ago."</p><p>"Corpse, next time you make a shitty joke like that I'm gonna kill you myself!" Mykie admonishes. "Everyone was so worried about you, oh my god."</p><p>"I'm ok." Corpse reassures.</p><p>"I'll call you later, ok? Should I come over with some soup or something?"</p><p>Corpse laughs, "Don't worry about it. Bye."</p><p>"Fine. Try and stay alive!"</p><p>With another chuckle Corpse sets his phone down after hanging up. He startles slightly after turning around, finding Jack and Rae sitting seriously on his desk.</p><p>"You feel ok?" Rae asks, sharing a pointed glance with Jack.</p><p>"Yeah, what's up?"</p><p>"We kind of need to talk to you."</p><p>"Sure?"</p><p>Rae reaches over and hands Corpse a card. It's black and matte, with clean white font stretched across the front. There's a small tag, <em>"@valkyrae"</em>, written underneath a bold "COMFY".</p><p>At Jack's nod, he flips it over. There's an address scrawled across the back.</p><p>"We have an offer for you."</p><p> </p><p>─── ･ : ｡*☽ .* :ﾟ. ───</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>¡Estoy bien! = I'm ok!<br/>¿Dónde estás y cómo estás? = Where are you and how are you doing?<br/>Estoy en mi apartamento. = I'm in my apartment.<br/>Rae y Jack están aquí. = Rae and Jack are here.</p><p>much procrastination occured both to write this and to not write it.</p><p>as always- feedback, kudos, and ideas are greatly appreciated !</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Convinced</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>114 fucking kudos?!</p>
<p>y'all are gonna make me cry ! you're not even hesitating to bring me to tears with all your kudos, bookmarks, and sweet comments ! i really appreciate the feedback !!</p>
<p>im sorta making shit up as i go, so hopefully everything makes sense. i got swamped with assignments so rip to my non-existent posting schedule.</p>
<p>thank you so much for reading and for your support, i hope you enjoy this new chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Corpse carries his modest bags out of his apartment and into the rain. The rain isn't super heavy yet, just a feisty drizzle. The droplets stick to his hair and run down his black bomber jacket. His already curly hair is curling even further into itself, away from the wet. A grimace quickly forms when one of his converse gets soaked in a particularly ill-placed puddle. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>A man confidently approaches him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He's elegantly carrying an umbrella. The man's face is covered with a black mask similar to Corpse's. Loose strands of hair confused between blond and brunette fall over his eyes. He's wearing dark jeans and a blazer-type coat, looking a bit fancier than what's expected from wet weather.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Hello, I'm 5up. I'm here to pick you up?" 5up extends his slim, free hand for a handshake. His fitted jacket falls open.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Corpse." Corpse replies with a firm squeeze. His eyes quickly lock onto the exposed inside lining of the jacket. The hot pink satin is a bright pop on the dull sidewalk. The man has him instantly charmed, and it's almost unsettling but Corpse ignores that- quickly looking away from where he's staring at this stranger's waist. The man, to his credit, hasn't reacted to Corpse's voice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Here, let me get those for you. Follow me please," 5up instructs. His green eyes are crinkled around the corners in a way that insinuates a hidden smile at Corpse's staring.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Corpse has no energy to protest. He'd been staying up later than usual, the anxiety-induced insomnia was successfully kicking his ass. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>5up leads him to a stereotypically sleek, black car. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Corpse silently follows the arm motion to get inside. He sinks into the luxurious seat and buckles in. He really is tired, but something catches his attention. <em>Would it be weird to ask 5up to wake him up when they got there?</em> A couple slight thumps tell him his luggage made it into the trunk.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The brunette then makes his way around. He opens the driver's door and his jacket falls open once again. There's a slight sort of bulge in the inside pocket. Corpse honestly can't help but look closer, even though he knows he shouldn't stare. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The shape is familiar, but something buffers in Corpse's brain as he tries to identify it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The world appears to fast forward a little to come to the correct moment in time. 5up is now in the car, fingers gliding over several buttons and jingling a set of keys. The locks click as the car gently soars away from the curb.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Oh shit.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That's a gun.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>─── ･ : ｡*☽ .* :ﾟ. ───</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>'What is this?'</em> Corpse questioned quietly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Rae and Jack exchanged a glance. Corpse couldn't read it even if he really tried, and his grip on the card tightened. The laminated material dug into his palm. The pain provided a weak sense of clarity, quelling the bubbling anxiety.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He clung onto it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>'Basically, we want you to move in,'</em> Jack had explained tentatively. Apparently Corpse's answering look was promising, as Jack continued.<em> 'We're all really worried about you, Corpse.'</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>He then caught Rae's eye again. She was fiddling with the strings on her- <em>his</em>- hoodie. Corpse felt something warm and fluffy curl around his heart. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She looked really cute.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>'Brodin wants to meet you. Along with Imane, Scarra, Toast, Lily, and Michael.'</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Corpse's breath had stilled in his chest.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>'And Sykkuno.'</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>If he wasn't sold before, he certainly was now. He could almost feel his breath stick in his throat even now, days later, leaving a pleasant tightness in his chest. His online friends wanted to meet him. In person.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They wanted him to move in with them, for fuck's sake.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Going outside the comfort zone, right?</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>'But I still have my lease.'</em> The opportunity hung in front of him, dangled much like a golden carrot on a stick, was appealing. Corpse gathered his excuses, prepared them, wrapping himself in the half-assed lies to shield himself from disappointment. <em>'I can't just move in either, where would I sleep?'</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>'You can move in at the end of the month. We can take care of the lease- if you want, obviously.'</em> A strained taste of freedom surfaced with his breath at Rae's words. The tension in preparedness for disappointment had ebbed slowly away.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>'We have a few spare rooms. If you're worried you can always join someone else in their's,' </em>Rae winked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Corpse had blushed in response, trying to think rationally<em>.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>The offer still stood.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His apartment wasn't the greatest living accomodations. If Corpse was being honest with himself, he felt restless in the small space. It was stressful leaving to get medicine and groceries, scary to hear people scrabbling at his locks at night.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Who <em>knew</em> what lay outside, hidden under the thick blanket of darkness, sneaking around underneath the gleaming moon.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Corpse didn't.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And it scared him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It scared him when the internet would cut, when his body decided that day was going to be a bad one. It scared him to cling desperately to his friends and hope blindly that they wouldn't leave him behind.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The car rocked him gently, pushing him further into the memory.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His hand found itself at his earlobe, autonomously fiddling with the sparkling cold of his earrings.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His phone was still spazzing out on his nightstand with worried messages.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A warm hand wrapped around his anxious fingers. It was Jack, looking at him with a small smile.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>'You can get back to us, of course, but how do you feel about it? Any thoughts?'</em> he asked, squeezing Corpse's hand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>'I'm gonna be honest, you guys sound fun as fuck,'</em> Corpse admitted.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There was an immediate 'woop!'</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Rae had jumped off of her seat next to Corpse's keyboard.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jack looked relieved.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>'Let's start packing your shit!'</em>
</p>
<p>─── ･ : ｡*☽ .* :ﾟ. ───</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>feedback is appreciated~</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Burnt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hey y'all ! i feel like this is a wonderful chapter to remind you this is fiction and not based on real events. the characters here are just that, characters based off internet personas.</p><p>the rating has changed- so please be mindful of that ! read the tags~<br/>this chapter may make you uncomfortable (as this is a mafia au), but feel free to take breaks as you’re reading- or not read it at all.</p><p>apologies for no upcoming warnings for this chapter's existence as i did not plan this bitch out (i really should've)</p><p>im so incredibly grateful for all the support on this mess !!</p><p>thanks for reading &amp; enjoy</p><p> </p><p>tw// threats, (brief) gun use/violence, heavily implied murder, arson</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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  <em>0 unread messages.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Sykkuno runs a hand through his hair, fluffing it up in an attempt to smooth it down.</p><p> </p><p>He stares at his phone, willing the confirmation to appear. It's several minutes past the agreed meeting time, but a few minutes of delay added to the anticipation.</p><p> </p><p>Nothing pops up.</p><p> </p><p>Sykkuno then looks out of the tinted windows for a moment, watching the road, trees, and colorful blobs that must be flowers blur together into something one might see behind their eyelids. </p><p> </p><p>Nature always made a good distraction from work.</p><p> </p><p>White roses turning black with ash, petals slowly charring into unrecognizable lumps. Innocent, bright daisies speckled with thick red droplets, quickly overgrown by scarlet anemones. </p><p> </p><p>Pretty things, ruined by fire.</p><p> </p><p>Sykkuno does like work.</p><p> </p><p>However subjective "liking" actually is.</p><p> </p><p>The financial stability, sense of family. He supposes it's messed up what they do to achieve it, but it's more entertaining than years of a nine-to-five. His hefty water bill simply isn't an issue anymore. They have access to anything they could ever want and the connections to so.</p><p> </p><p>His phone buzzes gently in his hand, pulling him back from macabre flower fields.</p><p> </p><p>Imane</p><p>
  <em>ready 4 you ;)</em>
</p><p> </p><p>And then, with impeccable timing, "We have arrived, sir." </p><p> </p><p>With a curt nod and a fond eye roll at Poki's message, Sykkuno slides across the supple leather seats and steps out of the car. </p><p> </p><p>An icy breeze immediately cuts down his arms, weaves around his ribs, and slithers under the faux black leather gripping his thighs.</p><p> </p><p>His steps are measured, seeing no need to bring about the inevitable quicker. His confident, self-assured veneer slips into place easily.</p><p> </p><p>He's not particularly looking forward to this, but there's an odd sort of comfort within the motions of running his fingers over the rough cardboard surface of the small box.</p><p> </p><p>The location this time is an abandoned construction site. It's stereotypically bleary and rotted, an over-all perfect spot for a potentially violent confrontation.</p><p> </p><p>Then again, when isn't it violent.</p><p> </p><p>There's a familiar figure waiting for him, leaning casually against a support pole. </p><p> </p><p>Poki raises her head and gives him a wave. Sykkuno smiles underneath his black mask, an action he's sure is reflected under her's as well. His hand comes up uselessly to cover his mouth. Poki's eyes crinkle further in amusement. She's dressed similarly, shiny black leather pants and a crisp white button-up.</p><p> </p><p>They fall into step walking down the grassy sidewalk. </p><p> </p><p>"Who is it this time?" Poki asks him. The attempt at conversation is half-assed at best, because what sort of conversation can you have in this situation. Discussions about the weather preceding murder didn't seem quite appropriate.</p><p> </p><p>Sykkuno rubs the back of his neck. "Agre Xin, missed a few payments. The Don's been pretty lenient with him."</p><p> </p><p>"He's a Xin?"</p><p> </p><p>"Huh? Oh- yeah."</p><p> </p><p> Poki whistles lowly. "That's gonna be fun. Brodin sure likes his dramatics."</p><p> </p><p>Sykkuno stifles a giggle. Brodin made a good boss. However, it seemed that Brodin never forgot his theatrical, acting flame. Confrontations were planned for abandoned places, haunted hotels, intricate threats. Places and people nobody would miss. Stringent systems and spies, dirty money exchanging hands. That's just the way it was, and Brodin was damn good at it. The higher members often joked that Brodin was a psychopath. Skilled, calculating- able to obtain power any way he pleased. The pawns lower on the ladder were scared.</p><p> </p><p>They carefully step into the shell of a building. It was distanced from the other industrial carcasses. He looks around at the wood beams, several of which are raw; patiently dripping rainwater onto the concrete. It would do.</p><p> </p><p>There's a man sitting rigidly in a metal chair in the middle of the space. The nerves oozing from him are almost tangible. His tie is incessantly wrinkled, but it seems the man has given up on trying to iron it out.</p><p> </p><p>Agre Xin must know why he's here.</p><p> </p><p>A short, collected nod later, and they're circling the target. Sharks that smelt weakness. He gulps and shifts in his chair.</p><p> </p><p>"Ma'-a-am, sir. H-have a se-seat?" A weak hand gesture.</p><p> </p><p>"No need," says Poki, locking eyes with Sykkuno over the shaking victim's shoulder. </p><p> </p><p>The clear display of the skewed power dynamic sends a shiver down Sykkuno's back. He elects to stop at the back of the chair.</p><p> </p><p>Sykkuno's fingers started to shake slightly.</p><p> </p><p>"You know why you're here, then?" Poki crosses her arms.</p><p> </p><p>At his nod, she pulls a gun out from nowhere. Sykkuno quickly follows, tensing his arm and freezing his fingers when the man turns his head. Sykkuno's eyes track a glistening bead of sweat gliding down his neck. </p><p> </p><p>"The Don's been awfully kind to you."</p><p> </p><p>"I-I apo-lo-logize, ma'am, money's been tight and I-"</p><p> </p><p>Poki waves a hand leisurely at the lie, taking the quick silence as an opportunity to stalk closer. </p><p> </p><p>"We're gonna need those missed payments, Mr. Agre," she says slowly. "We don't appreciate the Xins stealing. They should know where loose money gets them."</p><p> </p><p> Sykkuno swallows harshly, trying to keep quiet so as to not distract anyone involved, including himself. <em>Focus. </em>The breeze once again filters through the tarp covering up the support beams and curls down Sykkuno's collarbones. His collar flutters slightly, like a dying butterfly.</p><p> </p><p>The man is given exactly enough time to pull out his phone, wallet, and keys and hand them backwards. Sykkuno's hands are quickly covered with disposable gloves, and the items confiscated. </p><p> </p><p>Sykkuno turns away before the gunshot echoes throughout the empty space. </p><p> </p><p>The brief encounter is over. </p><p> </p><p>He fidgets slightly with the small box, managing to pull loose a single match. </p><p> </p><p>"Good?" Poki sounds concerned.</p><p> </p><p>Sykkuno hums in acknowledgement. He pauses in the door shaped hole leading outside, and holds the lit match up to a dry beam. The flame quickly hops over. </p><p>He manages to tuck a pale flower into his shirt pocket before the entire cluster catches fire, deciding that the pretty little thing shouldn't have to die.</p><p> </p><p>─── ･ : ｡*☽ .* :ﾟ. ───</p><p> </p><p>The car is waiting for them down the street. Poki pulls off her mask when the doors close. It's quiet, with a quiet man waiting for them across the quiet seat. His soft smile is proud as he nods towards them. They nod in polite acknowledgement in return.</p><p> </p><p>A silver swipe flashes from the driver's seat quicker than Sykkuno's imminent slouching. The engine starts humming peacefully underneath them.</p><p> </p><p>Sykkuno's hand is vibrating with adrenaline as he re-pockets the box of matches. The thrill from the confrontation ebbs.</p><p> </p><p>They've done too much, swam too deep, to feel guilt.</p><p> </p><p>It takes a moment for him to realize his phone is ringing. Sykkuno straightens up, obediently accepting the call and putting it on speaker. He holds his arm out towards the blond man slumped against the opposing seat.</p><p> </p><p>"Sir." Rae's voice is garbled, but clears up immediately.</p><p> </p><p>Brodin cocks his head at the phone speaker. "Yeah, Rae? And shut up with the sir."</p><p> </p><p>"He's on his way, <em>sir</em>."</p><p> </p><p>Sykkuno raises an eyebrow at Brodin's smile. It appears oddly genuine. In confusion, he turns to Poki, who's delicately cleaning red splatters from her shoes. She looks up, understanding flitting over her expression.</p><p> </p><p>"Perfect."</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>something else i haven't mentioned before, masks in this story are worn by people who wish to conceal their identity.</p><p>feedback welcomed &amp; appreciated ! i love reading &amp; rereading y'all's comments to the point that i feel like i look like a psychopath :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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